


Les Choses Qui ne Font Pas Rire

by MiliusPrime



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Insinuated past rape, Very very very subtly insinuated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 18:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9670115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiliusPrime/pseuds/MiliusPrime
Summary: Claribel Trevelyan, young circle mage and cousin to Inquisitor Jane Trevelyan comes to Skyhold. Well-liked for her gentle disposition, compassion, and agreeable personality, not many look for anything wrong past the softly smiling freckled face. But not everything adds up to that perfect image. Some notice... and some don't.





	

_For those who noticed, it took all three: some shared experience, looking hard enough to notice, and a reason to look in the first place._

 

              It’s in the never-quite relaxed muscles of her soft freckled hands, the pink crescent moon fingernail indents on her palm.

              The cramp in her arm from hand-writing letters to a ‘Gabriel Trevelyan’ who matches her countenance piece for piece. The cherubic smile, the physical likeness only found in cousins in the shape of their faces, and the twin shadows of mage staffs that loom above both their backs.

              The glimmer and sparkle of joy in her bright eyes, but something incorrect in the rise of her pale eyebrows. Something that teeters between jubilance and desperation.

              Her laugh is bright and she plays with the children in the hold with ease, her grip gentle but her jaw too tight to let the smile slip off naturally afterwards, muscles sticking in place like glue. A cold rubber band.

              The Qunari spy notices because it is his job to look. The forced smile, inward posture, the hyper-concentration whenever human men – _human_ , specifically – are present. Claribel has never set foot in the Chantry, but couldn’t hide her faith if she tried, and she doesn’t. He knows what it means. Files it away in his archive of people information.

              The dwarf businessman lives hand in hand with intuition and vibe, and picks up pieces of symptoms on accident, but with no finished picture to reference, the puzzle pieces fail to assemble into a meaningful whole. Regardless, he considers himself a decent judge of character, and the pains and joys closer to her surface are so easily displayed, he focuses on those instead.

              Ill-fitting, worn-soft clothes, mitigative habits, and unambitious social navigation allow her to slip under the enchanter’s radar. The moment she calls the fire from the fade, the taste of the ambient magic ends the Iron Lady’s apathy. Vivienne knows what a mage summoning magic from the fade in the desperate throes of death feels like, but when she turns to aid the girl, she finds her not in mortal danger at all, but blazing a path through her enemies as if they are drenched in oil. To use such intense magic so nonchalantly, to beg with mana when unnecessary presents a disturbingly peculiar enigma. She cannot figure out to what purpose it serves, and the girl is entirely consciously unaware - or a very concerningly good liar - and she doesn’t appreciate the disadvantage of the incomplete understanding. Nameless mage becomes _cousin to the Inquisitor_.

              Sera doesn’t like magic, and she doesn’t like nobility, and doesn’t look.

              Cassandra has a lot in common with the Inquisitor, and aside from mild curiosity at how different the Inquisitor and her cousin are, spares only the additional thought of appreciation for Claribel’s soft-spoken and mild nature in juxtaposition to the coarseness of some of the others she has to work with to meet her goals.

              Blackwall sees her small frame, gentle face, uncalloused hands, and fluffy halo of light hair and looks past her like he does most youth since Callier, to avoid the guilt.

              Dorian enjoys the distraction of banter, and doting on pretty things, and coos over Claribel’s youthful face full of freckles and teases Jane about the stark contrast between the cousins. Too busy enjoying making the Inquisitor grimace and groan, he never sees the expression that crosses Claribel’s face when he praises her rosy virgin cheeks.

              Focused on the guilt he feels for the burden he’s placed on Jane, Solas doesn’t turn his eyes on the Inquisitor’s slight mage of a cousin until he feels the strange way Claribel draws her fire from the Fade. He attests her failed attempt to follow his advice on how to shape her mana use to suit spell utility on a lifetime learning inferior methods in the Circle.

              Cole knows. Whispered words do nothing to loosen the knot, the fire festering in her burns slow and black, but he tracks the patterns of the flares and does what he can to remove the pockets of fuel she doesn’t see coming. Commander Cullen knows the Inquisitor’s cousin has joined their ranks, but somehow it always slips his mind to plan time to go make her acquaintance.

               

**Author's Note:**

> A small fic to give you an idea of how Claribel fits in to the Inquisition. Jane and Gabriel Trevelyan both belong to my friend Emily, ExAstrisScientia (keira-dawnglade on tumblr).


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